


A Night Out

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: AU, Alternate Universes, M/M, Series: Sentinel in Love series #9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:51:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stephen gets to know Morgan a bit.<br/>This story is a sequel to Family Matters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night Out

### A NIGHT OUT

By ET

Disclaimers: Sentinel and Guide are not mine. The whole concept belongs to Pet Fly Productions and Paramount. No copyright infringement is intended, even though, technically, it is. This is just for fun. Certainly not for profit.

Warnings: Mild violence. Name calling. Bad language. It's still Stephen's turn.

Summary: Stephen gets to know Morgan a bit.

Notes: This is an A/U series. As such... Morgan is my own character and I have a history for him that I've touched on in this series. Maybe someday I'll actually get to write it. Please don't use him without my permission. You'll regret it. He has a tendency to take over your mind. But what else can you expect from a telepath?

* * *

"Watching Jim get the Cop of the Year award was.... It's hard to explain how proud I felt of him, even to myself. I mean, it's not like I have anything to feel proud about." Stephen Ellison snorted as he swirled his wine in the glass. It wasn't very good wine and he'd already had a couple of glasses.

"Don't you? You think it's odd to feel proud of your brother winning such a prestigious award?"

"No. But, it's hard to feel like Jim IS my brother," he confessed tossing back the last of his wine like it was a shooter. "You don't know how we grew up \-- do you?"

"Jim has told me some of it. Some of it I've -- put together from what I've seen. I've studied psychiatry..."

Stephen interrupted him with a little laugh. "Everyone needs a hobby." Stephen realized that he was a little drunk. He wondered if Morgan was as well? He tried to remember how much wine Morgan had drunk compared to how much he'd drunk. Not much, he thought muzzily.

They were sitting at a table in a little diner. Wanting to get to know his brother's lover, he'd asked Morgan if they could spend some time together. Morgan had suggested movie and dinner. After the movie, they'd stopped at this little diner not far from the movie theater. The place turned out to be more bar than diner. The food was okay, but the atmosphere was another matter. Stephen was beginning to wonder if coming here had been such a good idea after all. He was feeling very uncomfortable about the looks they were receiving.

"Stephen, what do you want?" Morgan asked, leaning forward.

"I'm not really sure," Stephen admitted, slowly. "I guess I just couldn't stop thinking about Jim. I want to know who he is now. After waiting fifteen years to talk to him about what happened, I want to be as open with him as I can be."

There were three men at a table in the corner that kept looking at Stephen and Morgan and whispering among themselves. It was making the younger Ellison nervous. He got even more nervous when they got up and walked over.

"Well, what do we have here?" the man in the lead asked in a hearty voice.

"Looks like a couple of fags to me," another said, with a gap toothed grin.

"Is there something we can help you with?" Morgan asked, barely paying the men any attention. "Like a ruddy lobotomy?"

Stephen winced and revised his earlier opinion. Morgan must've had a bit more to drink than he'd thought.

"We don't like your kind here," gap tooth said, with a glower. Stephen had the impression he didn't know what Morgan had offered, but he thought it was bad.

Morgan looked at Stephen with a puzzled-seeming half smile. It was belied by the mocking look in his oddly colored eyes. "Do you have any idea what they are talking about?"

Stephen nervously licked his lips as he shook his head. Behind the men, he could see the bartender on the telephone. He hoped the police got there before he and Morgan were hurt too badly.

"Why don't you and your butt buddy go back where you came from," the first man crudely suggested.

"Who?" Morgan asked, his voice soft.

"You know who I'm talkin' about, fag boy. You and your fuckin' lover, here."

"Oh, God," Stephen groaned in embarrassment as he dropped his head into his hands.

"You've made a mistake, lad. We aren't lovers. We're just friends," Morgan said, his accent becoming a bit thicker.

"Riiight," another man laughed.

The first man reached down and pulled Morgan to his feet by his shirt. Behind him, the chair crashed to the floor. "We said for you to go. Now."

The room got quiet as Morgan looked at the hand holding a fistful of his shirt. Stephen gulped. The man outweighed Morgan by a good 130 pounds or more. There was no expression on the blond's face but his topaz eyes were a combination of fire and ice.

"Remove thine hand," Morgan said quietly, "or I will do it for thee."

"Aw, did I rumple the fag's shirt?" the man mocked.

The next thing Stephen knew, the man was on the floor, unconscious. Morgan smoothed his shirt and looked at the man's stunned friends. "Donna mess wi' me, boys. I'm no in th'mood."

By the time the police and EMT's arrived at the scene, there were three unconscious men on the floor and Morgan and Stephen were sitting at their table calmly drinking coffee.

"All right," one of the officers loudly announced, "someone want to tell me why these gentlemen are lying on the floor?"

"Because they ain't gentlemen," someone shouted from the back of the diner.

"Officer, I can explain," Stephen said wincing at the thunderous expression on the man's face.

"And you are?" the man's partner said, hoping this would go smoothly. He really hated calls like this one. Barroom brawls had to be the bane of a police officer's life. Right up there with domestic disputes.

"Stephen Ellison. This is my friend, Morgan Chandler."

"Ellison?" the other cop repeated, with raised eyebrows. "Any relation to Detective Jim Ellison?"

"He's my brother," Stephen said, proudly.

The two officers traded looks. "Okay. Why don't you tell us what happened."

"We were having dinner," Stephen said.

"This place does have good food, but some of the cliental suck " Morgan said, helpfully.

Stephen winced. "Morgan, please. Your language."

Morgan had the decency to blush. "Sorry. I only had two glasses of wine, but I guess I'm a little drunk, anyway."

"Where was I? Oh, yes. We were having dinner when these men came up and began to insult us. That one," Stephen said, pointing to the man the EMT's were working on, "pulled Morgan off his chair."

"I asked him to let me go and he wouldn't," Morgan told the officer.

"Actually, you told him to remove his hand from your shirt," Stephen clarified.

"Same deal," Morgan shrugged, nonchalantly. "Anyway, I removed it for him."

"And knocked him out at the same time," Stephen added, somewhat proudly.

The officer looked from the 160 pound Morgan to the 300 pound man sprawled on the floor and back to Morgan. He then again traded looks with his partner. He began to get a bit more respect for this odd looking man.

"After that, one of them took a swing at me, so I had to deal with him. They kept swinging so I kept dealing until they wound up as you see them now," Morgan finished the explanation.

"Why did they want you to leave?"

"They called us fags," Stephen said. "I am not a fag."

"No, you're not," Morgan soothed. "A fag is a cigarette."

"That's British slang, Morgan," Stephen said, patiently.

Morgan frowned, slightly. "Oh, right. Doesn't matter, anyway. You are straight."

"Damn right, I am," Stephen muttered.

"All right," the officer said with a sigh. "It looks like they started it, so you're free to go. If we need anything else, we'll get in touch with you."

"You can call Captain Simon Banks of Major Crimes if you need a reference," Morgan said, standing. "He knows the both of us. Also, I own a nightclub called the KNIGHT RAMPANT."

"Hey, I've been there," the other officer said, brightly. "That's a great club."

"Thank you," Morgan said, pleased.

"Uh, I don't suppose there's anyway to keep anyone from finding out about this, is there?" Stephen asked, a trifle nervously. "I'd really rather Jim didn't find out his brother was involved in a -- barroom brawl."

Morgan snorted, scornfully, as he pulled Stephen toward the door. "Yeah, right, Stephen. Like you really were in a fight."

"Okay, maybe I wasn't in the actual fight, but it's still undignified," Stephen said, following Morgan through the diner.

"And it's not for me?" Morgan asked, teasingly.

"You know, there goes a strange couple," the officer said, in a stage whisper.

"I'm not saying anything about Ellison's brother," his partner told him.

The first officer thought about it and about rumors he'd heard about Ellison. "You're right. It's safer that way."

~Finis~


End file.
